Earth Chapter 7: Fate 2

Find the rest at https://tinyurl.com/EarthFisk

Earth stirred in the darkened tent, the absence of light closed in on him. The scent of incense mingled with the stale air as he tried to shake off his grogginess. A cough revealed his throat to be parched and raw. His limbs were heavy and weak, like after a fever. His hair was damp with sweat and his stomach ached.

He wondered if anyone was nearby, or if there was water. As he sat up, the bandages around his middle pulled taut. Memories flooded back to him. Pain. Shock. The Madgyi. the staff. The explosion that tore a whole in his chest. 

But he could not feel the pain now, only an itching beneath the poultice that had been applied to his wounds. He lay back down, waiting for something to happen. Soon the incense would go out.

The flap of the tent moved, and he heard a sound, a flint striking, and he tensed, ready to fight. But the figure that emerged was not an enemy. Colinae was the Shadowsun’s Chief of Physicians. Earth recognized him, though he was surprised to see him. Normally, Colinae only directly tended to high ranking officers. 

He lit a lamp, hovering over a selection of bottles, before coming over. That gave Earth a moment to better make out his surroundings. This was no common sicktent. Fine furs and rugs covered the walls and floors, and a massive desk in the corner was covered in scrolls, parchments and what looked like maps. 

"Where am I?" Earth asked as he sat up. Colinae's piercing green eyes fixated on him suddenly, as if he hadn’t noticed him before. The air of unease that was palpable.

"Why do you ask?" the physician responded at last. He placed a bundle on the table. With a deft hand, he retrieved a scalpel from within, then turned to Earth. "I must examine your poultices," he gestured towards the bed, "Please recline."

Earth complied, bracing himself. He averted his gaze as Colinae began to cut away the fabric, his eyes drawn to a tapestry adorning the wall. It depicted warfare, black-clad soldiers locked in a violent struggle against faceless men garbed in red robes, wielding long staves.

"This is not a sicktent," Earth said. "That is why I ask.”

"No," Colinae said, his voice strained. "No, it is not a - ”

The physician's breath caught in his mouth, the creases on his furrowed brow deepening with concern. 

“Yes?” Earth asked, noticing 

"What do you remember?" The physician's gaze met his own. 

“Very little," Earth said. “It all happened so fast. Memories in haze. A face. An odor.” 

Colinae nodded slowly as he listened, but the sound of voices carried in on a soft breeze from outside. 

"It tells us nothing," a husky, powerful voice declared. "It could have been an accident. But it smells of a plan to me. A trap."

"Whether it was a trap is irrelevant," said a second voice. Earth immediately recognized the King. "This is our first real opportunity. We must seize it. You trained me well enough to see that we will never be stronger than we are right now."

 “We shall know more when the boy wakes,” said a third voice, smooth like a fleeting breeze.

"Your Grace, he is conscious," Colinae announced. A moment later, all three figures stood in the tent beside them. "However,” Colinae added, “I am uncertain of his condition. His memory is incomplete. Further, something peculiar, the man bears no wounds.”

“What manner of sorcery is this?” Admiral Gaoltea growled, his one good eye fixed on Earth.

“I assure you, my Lord Admiral, there is no sorcery here,” Colinae replied, his voice even and steady. “His wounds are simply gone, as if they never were. I cannot explain it.”

"What in the name of the First Realms does that mean?" The smooth voice caught Earth's attention. Acis, the King's Chief of Assassins, had a way of blending into everything, almost as if he was made of water. He looked it too. His hair, a long, silver tail, was held tightly back. His midnight blue eyes shimmered with an otherworldly light.

Beside him Admiral Gaoltea looked even more weathered, red-white scar running down his cheek straight through his streaked, hoary beard. Earth stared awestruck at them both until he remembered that it was the King who stood beside them. Up close he looked even younger, with fire-streaked black hair and youthful skin. But his bright green eyes held a weariness that spoke of more than one hardship.

Colinae's voice brought Earth back. "He has no wounds.”

Acis’ deft hands shot forward, examining the cut bandages and Earth’s bloodstained but otherwise healthy gut with a swift touch.

"Impossible," the assassin whispered.

Colinae stepped between his patient and the assassin. 

“Evidently not.”

The story of Earth continues…